I went for a walk in Mt. Tabor Park yesterday to stroll around the big reservoir. I shivered going up the east side of the hill in the shade and sweltered on the west side in the sun. I would have gladly stayed on the west side forever, under blue sky and balmy breezes but my feet started to hurt.I usually bandage a toe on my left foot before I go walking. However, I haven't walked since last fall. On my third circuit around the reservoir, toes on both feet began to hurt. I expected some pain, but both feet? As I limped along, I tried to recall . . . did I bandage the wrong foot? I made a pit stop to sit on a step and pull off my right shoe and sock. Sure enough, I had bandaged the toe on my right foot and not the toe on the left foot. Looks like I lost a few more brain cells over the long winter.
My cuticles are shredded, a sure sign that I am stressed. Among my many fears, I am sure I have early dementia. I fear I'm going blind. I fear I'm a walking heart attack. I fear my mother will live forever. I fear she will run out of money and have to move in with me.
To stop thinking, I took the plastic sheeting off the kitchen windows. I hope I don't regret my quest for more light and fresh air. The sky is clouding over. Rain is on the way. It gets cold when the east wind blows in.
I figured out that my experience of life is the result of five factors: circumstance, luck, persistence, talent, and insanity, pretty much in that order. I have no control over the first two. I can't do much about the last two. It seems to me that persistence is where I can leverage my capacity as a going human concern. To that end, I'm trying to do the things on my list, no matter how trivial, and avoid thinking too much.
That is why I'm blogging right now. It's on my list. I usually blog after something noteworthy happens. The only memorable thing that has happened so far today is that my cat ate food and then upchucked on the rug. Hey, barf happens.
The trick is to put tasks on my list that matter, not trivial things that I would do anyway just so I have something to check off. Sometimes I need to do that, though, I confess. Demoralization sets in when I don't do at least one important thing per day. Sometimes taking out the compost bin is an accomplishment; however, usually, taking out the compost, trash, and recycling does not merit a place on my to-do list. I used to think I deserved a medal if I got up before nine o'clock. Now I don't care. My idea of what is important has evolved as I've aged.
Speaking of aging, my relationship with gravity continues to evolve. As I drive, I feel my muscles melting into goo. I would like to say I keep a smile on my face when I am in public, but that would be a lie. My face sags when I'm not paying attention. My expression morphs from grimacing, to pursing my lips, to squinting, to scowling. I'm sure I often look insane.
Did I mention I try not to think too much?
Let's think about something else. How is everyone doing? Thanks for asking. My sister is living an academic life in Rennes. That is to say, she pursues her research like a terrier with a bone. It is not easy. I vacation in France through her photos and emails. My friend Bravadita is almost done earning a teaching credential. I fear for her safety as a public school teacher but I don't tell her that. She's got enough on her plate writing meaningless essays about classroom management and learning theory. I hope I live long enough to read her memoir. It is going to be magnificent.
My mother exists in a strange world outside of time, going through the daily motions as if she's caught in a time loop. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, nap, visit from daughter, repeat. If she didn't have dementia I think she would be a lot more frustrated. The thought occurs to her—is that all there is? I can see it flit across her face, but then it's gone. M.A.S.H. is on: time to discuss the merits of Klinger's latest frock.
